Losing Your Memory
by AirFireWaterEarth
Summary: "It took us years to get Vanellope to become a somewhat normal child..." Vanellope screamed bloody murder, whipping around, shoving the teen back, and falling into a few tables as she tried to distance herself from him as far as she would before Vanellope switched into defense and curled in a ball, using her forearms to cover her head. "And now that's all undone…" (Futuristic Four)


**Losing Your Memory**

 _Chapter One_

She felt like her chest was about to explode. And not in the good I'm-so-in-love-with-you way. More in the I'm-so-angry-at-you-and-myself-for-liking-you way.

Yes, the specifics were necessary in this case.

"Vanellope," Ralph said over the phone "Just suck it up and go back to the cafe. Come to some sort of truce with Hiro for a little bit. I'll get you soon, just wait out the crazy drivers."

Vanellope growled and shook her head.

"No. No way am I admitting defeat. Not for rain, not for hail, not for… for… for crazy brainwashed fathers!" Vanellope yelled into the phone.

There was a huge silence on Ralph's end. It lasted a few moments until Ralph cleared his throat and tried an as gentle of approach he was capable of.

"Vanellope, you're not… okay." Ralph tried "You need to find some sort of shelter, I don't care. Just get out of the rain."

"I'll be—"

After the onslaught of a scream and the shattering of glass, the line went dead.

 _3 months later_

Vanellope pulled at her pony tail with a frown. It was obvious that her hair wasn't used to it anymore. Why in the world did she ever decide to wear it down? Least her glitter gel held it some. Teenagers were so stupid. Vanellope pulled her brown tote closer to her and crept towards her window. Ralph was at work and Felix was watching her. If she'd learned one thing about Felix (which wasn't much), it was that her silence = a-okay in the carpenter's mind.

Ralph wouldn't let her be alone for a moment. Always baby sitters. She wasn't a baby! Besides, the doctors said her sketches would be… helpful in remembering. The sooner she remembered, the sooner she could get out of those therapy sessions. How long did they say she had to take those last time? Three years. She was on her second year so far. It was a complete waste of time, in Vanellope's perspective. Theoretically, she's already had the therapy. Now she just had to remember all that.

To make sure she had all her supplies, Vanellope added another pencil and eraser to her bag. She contemplated bringing another pad to, since this one was getting full, but she decided it was a walk around town; something she'd been doing to a while now. Except there was one place Ralph didn't want her to go.

That was where she was going now.

Sure, it was against someone's supposedly good intentions. But Ralph had told her it was the place she'd gotten hit. It was the perfect place for remembering! In fact, the more Vanellope thought about it, the more she realized she was going to need the other drawing pad. Her notebook was good though.

Being fully equipped, Vanellope snuck out her window and climbed down her roof, going out into central San Fransokyo.

It'd been a success; Vanellope had been able to sketch at least four different places that gave her déja vu. They weren't as good as jogging actual memories, but they were a start. Vanellope planned on turning around after having a strong surge of emotions when seeing Litwak's Arcade (she didn't want to spend the money Ralph had given her in case he asked where it went, but she did walk around to write down the names of some the games and sketched out the front of the building), but Vanellope's feet winded up having a mind of her own and began walking her down into a nicer area, where it was more work friendly. The lights were beginning to make Vanellope uncomfortable, as she felt more exposed under bright lights, but Vanellope fought it as hard as she could, not wanting to override this reflex that was hopefully leading her to some new clue.

Vanellope found herself stopped in front of a cafe with a smiling cat in the front of it. There was a sign next to it that said something about poetry nights on Thursday. Thank Mod that it was Tuesday; Vanellope didn't like being around a whole lot of people. Vanellope took a few steps back to take a full look at the place, and almost lost her breath at the memory that practically flashed before her eyes. Key word; flashed. It came and went in what seemed like a millisecond.

"No, no, no," Vanellope muttered, "Come on, come on, come back."

Since memories weren't dogs, it didn't work like that. But Vanellope made sure to sketch out the front of the building and write down its name in her notebook: "Lucky Cat Cafe".

When she looked back up, she wondered if she should go inside. Because it was a cafe (a nearly empty one at that), Vanellope probably was going to have to buy something. But it was worth the lie, right? This place was like a land mine of memories (well, there was only one, but she'd only had, like, two so far). This could be her chance.

Vanellope walked into the cafe and cringed as the bell rang to alert her entrance. Nobody seemed to be in the front, so it bought Vanellope some time to look around. She wanted another memory so badly, but Vanellope was suddenly feeling exhausted. Like the one at the front took all she had. Vanellope sighed, defeated. She pulled out her notebook to produce one last sketch; one of the cat mewling at her feet. It made her hungry for ice cream mochi for some reason. Maybe that something she should take note of. Quickly, Vanellope wrote down "Green tea mochi" in her notebook (she really liked green tea ice cream). A slightly annoyed voice behind her made her jump.

"So are you going to apologize or what?" came a male voice.

Vanellope whipped around a little to quickly for a sane person. She looked up a little to meet eyes with a part Caucasian, part Japanese male that whose name was floating around her brain, lingering. Excitedly, Vanellope ignored his question and asked him one of her own.

"What's you're name?!" she asked, ready to write it down.

The teen blinked at her.

"If this is your way of trying to weed your way back in without saying sorry, you are seriously sick." he snarled.

It struck a chord in Vanellope. She wasn't sick. Too many people had told her she was sick or worse; a mistake. Quickly Vanellope went into defense mode.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said lowly, "but I whatever I did, you'll have to remind me of. You see, a couple mo—"

The teen cut her off.

"Seriously, Vanellope? Are you really doing this right now? You haven't said a word in three months, and now you come back like this?" he shouted.

Three other people came to join Crazy Man. The first was a red-head with short hair, a red tee-shirt, shorts, and striped leggings, much like Vanellope's, except they were black and white and… well, they matched. The second was a tall male who, although had thick black hair, looked to be fully Caucasian. Same went for the last girl, whose hair was stick-straight and wore a pink shirt and jeans. The names were floating around too, but Vanellope was on full survival mode now.

The girl in pink looked at Vanellope, concerned.

"Are you… okay?" she asked.

Hiro was about to answer, but the second male spoke.

"Obviously not; no sane person would wear that." he snickered.

Vanellope's hand balled into a fist around her pencil. Her clothes were weird, sure, but they matched her. Her mint green hoody, chocolate brown skirt, mismatched green, pink, and purple leggings, and black combat boots were her second skin. At least, they were now. Her "cousin" Elsa tried to introduce Vanellope's "new" wardrobe to her, but Vanellope rejected it (along with contact lenses and make up).

These people she probably met through Taffyta or something. No wonder Ralph didn't want her here. Vanellope took a deep breath. She was, as the doctors would say, becoming sporadic.

Vanellope looked at the male that had accused her of being sick.

"I don't know who you are, but leave me alone. I just walked in here to help with my memory and then you showed up. All I asked for was your name! Was that so bad?" She asked.

The one person that hadn't spoken rolled her eyes.

"Yep. The only thing you did was show up. Not, I don't know, accuse us of not really being your friends and claiming you hate us and wish you never knew us?" she asked sarcastically.

Vanellope stared and them for a moment, washing she could take a video for the Irony of the Century Awards. She was sure it would win.

"If you'd known me so well." she growled, "then why didn't you visit me in the hospital?"

Vanellope was beginning to unravel. Her palms were getting tender under her nails, and her breathing was becoming unsteady. She had to fix that. Those therapy sessions and medications weren't going to stop unless she proved she was stable.

"Okay, that's enough," the half Japanese teen said. He walked forward and Vanellope flinched back.

"Don't t—" Vanellope tried to warn him not to touch her. But it was too late.

When he tried to push her out of door and grabbed her shoulder to do so, Vanellope's instincts and PTSD kicked in; then she lost it.

Vanellope screamed bloody murder, whipping around, shoving the teen back, and falling into a few tables as she tried to distance herself from him as far as she would before Vanellope switched into defense and curled in a ball, using her forearms to cover her head. The bell to the store rang multiple times to signal the entrance and exits of multiple people. Finally, Vanellope heard familiar voices.

"This is why i don't let you go out on your own." Ralph lectured.

Felix came in, "No, no, it was my fault. I should have noticed she had left sooner."

"But that doesn't erase the fact that she thought she was capable of leaving on her own!" Ralph rebuked, "She's not alright and she needs he help of doctors."

Vanellope had to hold back a cry. She was fine. But she wasn't. She was balled in the fetal position in the middle of a restaurant, all because someone tried to touch her.

"Yo, ladies," Tamora, Felix's wife, interviened, "Hate to break it to you, but there's a 16 year old amnesia patient curled in the middle of the floor. You might want to do something about that."

"Wait— what?" The teen Vanellope had gone ballistic on asked. "What are you talking about? What's wrong with Vanellope?"

Ralph growled.

"You that's what happened. What just happened; that was your fault kid."

Vanellope looked up a little bit. No one had told her the details of her accident; just that a car hit her and now her memory was set 7 years back. Back to a time where things were a lot darker. What had this kid done that made him the cause of her accident?

Ralph came to hoist Vanellope up and she wobbled to her feet numbly. As Ralph walked her to the car, she heard Hiro whisper something, but she didn't pay attention to what it was. All she could think was: his name is Hiro. _I remembered; his name is Hiro._

~:~:~:~:~:~

Hiro whispered to himself as Vanellope wobbled away.

"What happen to you?"

And what did he have to do with it? Hiro decided to fix the mess Vanellope's tantrum had created and Vanellope's "Uncle" Felix tried helping as well.

"Don't mind Ralph," Felix assured, "he's just angry at the situation. I mean yes, you were the reason why Vanellope wouldn't go inside, but it wasn't like you knew the car was going to hit her."

The chair in Hiro's hands dropped and clunked to the floor. He should have put it together; the amnesia, the blame. But it sounded so real coming from someone's mouth. Violet tugged her pink sleeves over her hands.

"You mean, for three months, Vanellope's had amnesia and no told us?" she asked incredulously.

Felix shrugged, "Ralph was angry at you guys and he didn't want you doing anything else. That accident did quite the number on Vanellope. She only remembers being nine. That's only a one year space from when her father tried to, well, you know."

Penny lean forward.

"No. We don't know."

Hiro was still paralyzed, guilt rushing over him the more Felix said. And what was said next didn't help. At all.

Felix sat down in the chair he just picked up (and the one Hiro dropped) and pulled off his blue hat.

"Vanellope's mother died in childbirth and Vincent never quite recovered. When he met Turbo, his gay lover, Turbo was somehow able to convince Vincent that Vanellope was a… 'mistake that needed to be fixed'. Like a glitch— they worked as computer engineers.

Turbo succeeded; Vincent tried to murder Vanellope when she was eight. Luck was on Vanellope's side though; Ralph worked with Turbo and Vincent so he had already known the plans and contacted the police, and Vincent was heavily intoxicated and didn't end up injuring her vitally. But let's just say she has some pretty, ah — what's the word you kids use these days?— wicked scars on her left thigh and shoulder." Felix downcasted his eyes, "It took us years to get Vanellope to become a somewhat normal child— not that she ever really was. You guys met her when she was what, 13?"

"T-t-tweleve." Hiro stuttered.

Felix nodded.

"Still good enough. Vanellope's treatments finally helped around the age of 10, maybe a little bit after. At 12, she should have been fine. Wanting to put the past behind her."

"And now that's all undone…" Hiro said, trailing off.

Another nod.

"All undone…" Felix sighed and finished cleaning up the place. "Listen, don't take this to heart; no one could have seen this coming. We're working with Vanellope. We'll get through this."

Felix left the shop, followed by a glaring Tamora. Penny put a hand on Hiro's shoulder, but Hiro brushed it off.

"This is all my fault." he said.

Wilbur shook his head,

"No, dude. You heard what Felix said; that was a twist ending."

Hiro swallowed. This wasn't an ending. This couldn't be how this ends. He wasn't going to let it.

He had to help.

 **A/N: I planned this a while back, but this has changed a lot since then. The whole "Turbo and Vincent" thing was based off a report of a mother being brainwashed by her lesbian lover to kill her daughter. No harsh feelings towards bisexuals and homosexuals; it's just like saying a woman convinced Vincent to kill her. It doesn't really matter.**

 **How as this? Good, bad, shut it down, incorrect (I didn't really look up amnesia stats), OOC (okay, obviously this one). Any one them, review!**

 **Uh… one more thing before I go. Just to calm any confusion you may or may not have; you probably-maybe noticed the 35 fics dropping to 31. FF doesn't hate us, I just went through what I call a "Fanfiction purge" where I deleted all dead fics. So don't worry if you were ;)**

 **R &R!**

 **~Sam**


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